How I Stepped Into My Vulnerability, and Finally Clicked the ‘Publish’ Button
In response to week two of the ‘May Writing Experience’, I have decided to delve into my recent step into vulnerability and explain how I overcame my own resistance. In the last two months, I have already undertaken a lot of ‘prep’ work in terms of unpicking my fears and doubts, and mostly have learnt that by naming our monsters, we name our resistance (and that, by separating ourselves from our resistance, it becomes easier to converse with it — thank you to Nicola Slawson and Tiffany Philippou for this incredible mentoring). In terms of exploring connection and vulnerability out there in the real world, I have written a recent blog post on my website, which settles-in nicely to this theme. This ‘in-the-flesh’ experience bore so many similarities to the writing process — putting down the bricks to start taking action, so that the next bricks are now appearing; the path already becoming clearer after only a few days. By taking the leap to launch my own Blog and setup my Medium profile (and reignite my socials), I’ve already begun to have a small readership within a week — and new glimmers of opportunities have grown out of this.
How did I take that leap? Mostly, I stripped back my life (partly due to the pandemic) and really my only time spent sharing myself online was via posting about once a month on Instagram. Over this time, I managed to gain around 500 followers without even using hashtags or self-promotion; I gained my readership from other people sharing my posts — and from there, I had so many people encouraging me to write and keep sharing. I naturally write long-form posts (and I enjoy it, too), but I was steadily becoming unsure about the platform itself — creating content for free, keeping up with socials in general (not a high-level skill of mine) and starting to believe that if I really wanted to write, that I would need to go get an actual writing education — to ‘get qualified’. I started saving the local university websites, wondering how I would ever fit studying into my current life, and began creating more and more barriers to prevent myself from really ever starting. I avoided the fact that I was actually already writing, and therefore, I was already a writer.
I think there’s this really strange resistance to entitling ourselves as the things we secretly yearn to be, when in reality its as simple as asking ourselves — what is it we do? What do we wake up thinking about, or daydreaming about, or spend our free time doing? What do we do for a living, or on the side? Sometimes, I think we already know and possess the answers, and we just need to uncover them. I’ve often noticed, that either the things I fear being, or the things I want to be, or even the things I want to do — I’m already doing and being them. Looking between the cracks of everyday life, I realised how I drop into my phone notes every single day; writing down ideas, to-do’s, dreams, shopping lists, research projects and even notarised journal entries — I am writing constantly.
When I look back at my Fine Art degree (where I specialised in conceptual / installation pieces), it is clear that what really got me through those three years was the journalling — my reading log, my technical notes, my learning journal, and of course my dissertation — I would even scribble on old electric bill envelopes and submit them to be assessed as part of my work. Last year, I tested the waters by undertaking a short online course (curated and taught by the wonderful Katherine May) and then found the London Writers’ Salon, which encouraged me to sit and write, every day, for a couple of months (I’m aching to return to this, once I have more consistent working time again). I started to create the structure and foundations of a book during this period, but then lockdown turned that all on its head again and I was plunged into more disarray. Now that things are easing, I knew it was the time to start again — because once we start, we can figure out what the next step is — whether its more education (and this can be gleaned from library books, YouTube videos, short courses online etc just as much as an expensive Masters or PhD degree), more writing (even if that’s on our phones — remember that text messages and social media posts, are forms of writing!), adapting home schedules and routines (waking up earlier, making breakfast or lunch the night before, or sacrificing couch time to write). Ultimately (and it really is true), it starts with taking small steps — like the LWS 50-minute sessions — but it need only be twenty to start with (ten, even). We need support, too, and to really analyse where we spend our time. I had to step back from my relationships in some areas, evaluating what wasn’t working for me, and letting my own voice, for once, come to the surface — to start exploring what I wanted, what I actually liked — to let myself explore. A social media hiatus followed, as I knew it was becoming a form of escapism (just like Brené Brown mentions in the video that Samantha Lazar has shared this week, in terms of numbing vulnerability). I was consuming everyone else’s words, including books (buying more and more, the pile of them overwhelming me as much as social media) instead of exploring those available moments to read and write that previously I’d spend scrolling. Asking for help and support, compromising and letting others know that this writing thing is important, and that we’re taking it seriously — this means setting boundaries (and I’m still learning how to do that).
For me, I found it helpful to record my stats at first; my word count, my time spent writing and even how many pages I can read in a given time. To really understand my own process, of how I write, what I can accomplish, and what I am capable of — within the time that I have available. Fear of success was something I had realised I was suffering with the most. Though it is somewhat annoying to hear when we’re stuck (oh hey there resistance), sometimes we really do have to take a breath, and start. Writing for myself, and building a small community — taking the time to engage with others, finding my ‘people’ — it took a good year or two to do this (though I wasn’t focusing on it — I probably could have built my following quicker, if I’d invested more specific time into it). Slow and steady was my way, whilst I was figuring out my own passions and areas of interest — something I’d completely lost sight of for the prior six years, as I navigated the chaotic world of parenting. Another thing that was (and still is) a huge part of me committing more to my writing, is defining my own message — I had inklings about what it is I wanted to write about, but mostly I was really unsure and afraid of becoming more specific. I needed to get more focused, to give me some structure so that I wasn’t getting lost in the sea of inspiration (I’ve written about this before, too, in terms of finding everything interesting — my curiosity being quick to awaken). I was stalling the actual process of writing because I just didn’t know exactly where I aligned — and that all changed when I embraced that honesty and reality, in itself.
What I’m saying here, is that we have to start, even when we’re not sure (especially because we’re not sure) — the lack of knowledge and clarity, is exactly the ‘hero’s journey’ that encompasses this week’s writing challenge. I knew that my writing needed to focus on my love of nature; of our need for the wild and how to explore what happens when we open ourselves to it and give back to it (and our connection to each other) — of how we can work together as a literal ecosystem. Over time, I realised that where I wanted to go deeper into nature writing was to raise the voices of the underrepresented — sharing my own research (and words) in these areas, lifting other author’s art and dedicating myself to this work — to smooth out the discriminations that I place on myself, others, and the land in turn. To help to undo these painful and messy constructs, and move towards life and love — and taking my own place in it; becoming a part of life itself.
I think its important to keep asking questions, like — what is our message? Then, to keep writing the answer down, again and again — to refine it, let it change and let it be fluid. This is coming from someone who has launched a blog only six days ago (a true fledgling), but has been observing and noting down life pretty much their entire life (that’s over thirty years, fyi). Nothing I’ve written here will be necessarily timeless; it falters and clunks and before long, will have a whole new narrative as I continue on this writing journey — and that’s the trick; to consistently let it evolve and adapt. We must remind ourselves that many of our own titles, labels, beliefs, pressures and barriers are self-created, and therefore we get to choose to turn around, start again, or move on. So, start again, make time, and try your ideas out — once we are clearer on our message (or, as in the hero’s journey, it would be the ‘call to adventure’), it gets easier to place a brick down, and start paving our own writing paths. Take courage, and know that our paths fall side by side.
Thank you for reading my second Medium post! I am working through the ‘May Writing Experience’ to ease me in to this wonderful writing community, and have recently launched my own Blog where I hope to publish at least once or twice a week there, too. Please do join me across any of these platforms — I would love to connect with you.
